Chapter 10
Valentina’s eyes narrowed, the chill of her wet clothes forgotten as a new, far more dangerous realization washed over her. "What else did he promise them?"
Thomas looked down at the tablet, his fingers tapping the screen to bring up a decrypted communications log. "He promised them the complete eradication of the Morello bloodline. Chicago demanded that there be no legitimate heirs left to challenge their claim to the territory. They didn't want a war in ten years when Owen grew up."
Valentina looked back at her three-year-old son, who was quietly blowing on his hot cocoa, entirely unaware that a national crime syndicate had placed a bounty on his small head.
"The push into the pond wasn't just a lesson," Valentina whispered, the absolute, chilling horror of her cousin's actions finally snapping into perfect focus. "Celeste wasn't trying to scare him. She was trying to execute him."
"Yes, Boss," Thomas confirmed grimly. "Victor and Celeste were supposed to eliminate you and the boy today at the reception, and signal Chicago that the throne was empty."
"But they failed," Valentina said, her voice dropping into a low, terrifying register.
"They failed," Thomas agreed. "But Chicago didn't wait for the signal, Valentina. They jumped the gun."
"Explain," Valentina demanded.
Thomas held up the tablet, turning the screen so Valentina could see the live feeds from the estate’s perimeter security cameras. The bright, cinematic colors of the video feed showed the long, winding driveway leading up to the mansion's main gates.
"I just intercepted a police dispatch frequency," Thomas said, his voice urgent. "Five unmarked black tactical vans just bypassed the outer checkpoint on the main highway. They are heavily armed, wearing unmarked tactical gear, and they are heading straight for the front gates."
Valentina stared at the screen, watching the headlights of the approaching convoy cut through the gathering dusk. Chicago hadn't just sent a crew to take the docks; they had sent an assassination squad directly to her front door to ensure the job was finished.
"How far out are they?" Valentina asked, her mind instantly switching to a brutal, defensive calculus.
"Three minutes, Boss," Thomas replied, drawing his sidearm. "The perimeter guards can't hold off a coordinated tactical strike of that size."
Valentina turned to the nanny. "Lock this door. Do not open it for anyone except me or Marcus. If you hear shooting outside, take him into the panic vault."
"Yes, Ma'am," the terrified nanny nodded, pulling Owen closer.
Valentina grabbed Marcus's dry suit jacket, slipping it back over her shoulders to cover her soaked blouse. She didn't have time to change. She didn't have time to mourn the betrayal of her family. The war had arrived at her doorstep, and she was going to greet it.
May you like
"Thomas," Valentina said, walking toward the heavy steel door. "Sound the general alarm. Give every man in this house an automatic weapon. We are going to show Chicago what happens when they cross a Morello."
She stepped out into the hallway, the heavy steel door slamming shut behind her, ready to unleash hell upon the men who had come for her son.
